The full boat wound its way through the fog coming off the water. Those on the boat had calmed down considerably since they first boarded. At first, there was much wailing, many people standing at the shore, trying to run. Many people were doing everything they could to get away from the ferryman and his long whip-like pole.
All except one. As soon as the boat beached, he put his foot on the prow and climbed into the boat. Charon watched as the shade strode past him to sit at the starboard side of the boat. He draped his arms across the wood railing and looked up at Charon, as if to say, “Home, James.” Charon grinned. “Where’s – ”
“It’s on credit,” the shade said. “You know me, Charon. You know who I am and where I’m going. The sooner I get there, the sooner you get your money.”
“Bah,” the ferryman spat, and went to retrieve the souls that refused to come aboard.
Now that the souls had paid their prices, and now that they were aboard – some had fallen into the water to be never seen again – the crying without tears had stopped. These people who remained, who went to an afterlife they probably didn’t expect, looked out into the dark fog to try and discern what could be out there.
The boat suddenly lurched, beaching somewhere. All heads turned to look beyond Charon to see a huge amphitheater. The number of souls on the boat couldn’t even fill the front seats of the theater. The first man aboard was the last to leave. Charon watched him jump off the boat onto the beach, being sure not to touch the water.
“You’re lucky, Gray Cat, or you would be doing this.”
“Lucky,” Mike snorted, turning his back on Charon and walking into the amphitheater. He sat high above the rest, up toward the back.